


Tropes and Tribulations

by randommindtime



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Friendship, Humor, M/M, cursing, held captive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randommindtime/pseuds/randommindtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught by the umpteenth alien-villain-of-the-week, Rodney reflects on their SciFi-special lifestyle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tropes and Tribulations

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to respoftw for being my beta :)

_James T Kirk._

_Malcolm Reynolds._

_The Doctor._

_Han Solo._

 

In Rodney's eyes, not one of them could hold a candle to John Sheppard. 

 

_"I HATE YOU."_  

 

" _Rodney_."

 

"No, seriously, how is it that every time - **Every. Fucking. Time**. - this happens, it's when I'm with _you_?"

 

John looked down and sighed.  ’20 feet?  Maybe 25?’

 

"Well, you _are_ my plucky sidekick," he drawled. "It would stand to reason we'd always be kidnapped together."

 

" _FUCK YOU_ ," Rodney vehemently snapped back as he twisted his head around to deliver the verbal blow.  The momentum caused them to gently swing.  ”I am _sick_ and _tired_ of being your comic relief in every Made-for-TV-SciFi-Special you happen to stumble us into.”

 

" _Hey_ ," John bristled (mainly at the stumble part because he was the military commander, dammit, he didn't _stumble_ , there was just that _one time_ with the weasels and the hole and that was _an_ _accident, goddamnit_...)

 

The rest of the statement, well...it was hard to deny when they were currently chained together, back-to-back, dangling over a vat of some kind of violently-yellow alien acid.

 

“I mean I’m a certified genius, for god-sakes, not some _red-shirted-buffoon_.”

 

"You seem to have forgotten, _Rodney,_ that this is actually _all_ _your fault_ ," he insisted through a grunt, testing the strength of the chains. Yup - tight. 

 

”My fault?  _MY FAULT_?  I was **not** the one who saw a shiny doorknob and thought 'We're on an alien planet, **_this_** can't be bad'!"

 

"No, but you _were_ the one whose _alien-clepto-tech fingers_ turned on the control inside of that room without thinking twice and **_activated the alarm_**!" 

 

"Only after your _statistic-defying_ **_genius leadership skills_** insisted it was an abandoned outpost!"

 

"You know, just - _SHUT UP_."

 

John kicked his leg back and connected with Rodney's boot. 

 

"Why don’t you **_make me_** , _oh wise and great leader_ ," Rodney said, returning the kick. 

 

"I swear to _fucking-_ " 

 

John countered (if you could even call it that), boot skimming off of Rodney's heel before Rodney kicked back once more and a feeble, awkward fight of lower limbs ensued.  A full 30 seconds later, they were both out of breath, strength and dignity, their limp bodies turning in a slow circle. 

 

" _Well_ ," Rodney conceded through a huff of air.  "That accomplished _nothing_."  He glared at the machines rotating in front of his face since he couldn’t see John himself.

 

" _Yeah_ ," John conceded, head bowed down as he surveyed the rest of the room and contemplated for the millionth time since arriving in Pegasus how he had ended up in a mess like this.  God, Rodney had a point, didn't he?  He always had a fucking point… 

 

In the brief, luxurious moment of silence that followed, John's eyes landed on their weapons and gear laid out on a table below.  

 

_‘Good,’_ he thought. _‘More cliques…’_

 

The sun was fading down the windows to the table’s left - West, John surmised - so the gate would be 3 clicks in that direction...

 

"It really is insane, the amount of asinine SciFi tropes we've landed in over the years," Rodney mused, interrupting John’s thoughts and causing him to close his eyes to breathe deep.

 

"We _are_ in the Pegasus Galaxy, Rodney," he stated as they continued to slowly rotate, opening his eyes to begin mentally cataloguing the exits.  "You know, in the _lost city of Atlantis, fighting aliens everyday, flying spaceships.._."  

 

8 windows, 2 doors - 1 to the South that was actually open… They'd have to loop around the vat from the table once their were armed again…

 

"3 Utopias that turned out to be Dystopias...," Rodney said, ignoring everything John said. "... 2 to 10 innocuous objects that turned out to be evil, I've lost count ... 3 brain switching episodes, complete with embarrassing kisses ..."

 

" _Grant me the serenity_..." John said under his breath as their weapons came back into view. For a brief moment, they stopped turning before the torque caught up and sent them in the opposite direction. 

 

"... _I_ turned into a superhero, _you_ turned into a bug..."

 

John wiggled his arms again but still found only resistance, huffing at the effort. "Thanks, Rodney. _Always appreciate that being brought up again._ "

 

"... 2 alternate reality versions of ourselves, 1 set of replicator clones.  Who knows _how many_ Ancient machines that did _fuck-all_ but cause us misery…  Memory-erasing viruses, _love-inducing viruses_ …life-sucking aliens ( _always a classic_ ) ..."

 

John was looking up, surveying the wench and chains and where the release was, when he was suddenly brought back to the conversation, squinting as he tilted his head towards Rodney. "Wait…are you blaming **_me_** _for_ ** _all_** _of these_?"

 

Rodney went suspiciously quiet, the back of his head brushing against John’s and John could just _see_ his chin tilting up, mouth doing that fish-gaping-thing as his eyes darted around. 

 

" _Rodney_...?!"

 

"Only the off-world ones,” he conceded.

 

"I swear to **_christ_** _, McKay_."  He kicked him once more, just for the hell of it.

 

"OK, ok, ok, 30%, but I'm being _very generous_.  You _did_ touch that crystal thing that one time.”

 

"I'm going to _KICK YOUR ASS_ as soon as we get down from here!"

 

_“_ ** _If_ ** we get down from here, _Colonel Colombo_.  Need I remind you of the acid and the peril?" John felt Rodney's hands reflexively move against his, motioning down despite neither of them being able to see them. "These aliens are worse than every Bond villain _ever._   **Period**."

 

John followed the motion and saw a particularly overly-enthusiastic bubble spring up from the acid and 'gloop' open.  He sighed for a third time and let his anger drop away.  "They do seem to have a knack for the dramatic, don't they," he said flatly. 

 

John briefly wondered if this was all punishment for pranking that one nun with the jellyfish back in primary school.  He shuddered at the memory, practically feeling the ruler's sting across the back of his hands. 

 

There was a beat of silence as they stopped turning counter-clockwise and went back to clockwise.  John decided he preferred clockwise.

 

“Look, on the bright side-” John began.

 

" _Oh, this should be good.”_ John glared on principle, even if he couldn’t be seen - he swore Rodney's sarcasm was more corrosive than anything they could be dangling over.

 

_“- if this_ ** _is_** _a SciFi special, like you oh so delicately put it,"_ he continued. " ** _We_** are the _heroes_ and in _those situations_ , as clique as they may be…” _John paused for effect_ “…the heroes never die.”

 

John thought he had made a very convincing point.  Rodney disagreed (he always disagreed), his single sardonic and chaffed laugh reverberating off of the large steel walls.

 

" _You can't be serious.  ‘Heroes can’t die_ ’?” he mocked.  “Tell that to Spock."

 

"I said, _in those_ -"

 

"Better yet, tell that to _any_ comic book superhero **_ever_** that the authors purposefully made nearly immortal and then thought ' _wow, it would be really tragic now if they died somehow, huh?_ '  If SciFi doesn't maim its heroes to death, it beats them down into a barely functioning mess of PTSD and alcoholism.  I don't e _xactly_ feel a lot of encouragement being dropped in with that lot, _thanks_."

 

The chains creaked in the silence, some machine below beeping once.

 

" _I have never heard such a negative response to a compliment before in all of my life_."

 

"Sure you have, we've known each other for 5 years now."

 

John snorted despite everything, still surprised at how seamlessly their arguments and humor blended together.  Dark and sarcastic and always with an edge of… _something_.

 

"My arms are getting numb," Rodney stated after a moment. 

 

"Mine, too."

 

"Do we try to escape?"

 

"The walls are at least 15 feet away and the chain is only about 10, so we can't swing, and no amount of arm or core strength is going to loosen these bindings. Also, the wench is locked in place on the far west wall, so that's out." John huffed. "So _no, we don't_."

 

John heard Rodney's head turn, jacket fabric rustling. "When did you work all _that_ out?"

 

"While you were _jabbering on_ about the correlation between _idiotic Air Force Colonels_ and _B-list SciFi movies_."

 

They had nearly stopped rotating now, settling back into simply hanging while that same machine beeped again. 

 

"I didn't say _any_ Air Force Colonel," Rodney quietly grumped. 

 

In the wierdest way, John knew it was a compliment and he smiled softly in response, glad no one could see.

 

"We should be close to missing our check in with Atlantis and then they'll do their thing.  It's 'sit tight and wait for a rescue' until then I'm afraid."

 

"Yay, my _favorite trope_ ," he said in mock excitement. " _Damsel in distress._ "

 

" _Rodney,"_ John pleaded _,_ wishing he could rub a hand over his face _._

 

"I'll let you be the alpha princess this time...?"

 

John quirked an eyebrow.  ”Is that a euphemism, McKay?"

 

"Could be?"

 

Before he could respond, a loud metal scrap-and-bang came from below, heavy footsteps echoing through the room.  They both looked down for the source of the sound, swinging around again.  A moment later, a theatrically overdressed man with slicked-back silver hair and thick-framed eyewear stepped out of the shadows and walked sarcastically towards the vat, arms grasped behind his back. 

 

" **Ah,** **_Dr. Go-Fuck-Yourself, I presume_**!" Rodney yelled down.  

 

John smirked and felt like the fumes from the acid must be going to his head because he was suddenly very proud of his sidekick.


End file.
